I'm Not Dead
by LittleMissRedShoes
Summary: Started as a drabble and evolved from there. Based on the song I'm Not Dead by Pink. A small ficlet about Hermione and Draco's relationship. Rated M to be safe


_**I'm Not Dead**_

_**by LittleMissRedShoes**_

_A/N: This little story started off in a new set of dramione drabbles I'll be posting soonish. I started a drabble to 'I'm Not Dead' by Pink and just couldn't stop. It's not beta'd so please excuse any mistakes. I'm pretty much posting this as it came out of my head since it was a totally unplanned story. If you like it or loathe it hit the review button and give me your feedback!_

_As always any thing you recognise doesn't belong to me_

There are always cracks. Cracks in everything. A crack in the pavements, a crack in the mirror, a crack in the curtains letting a slither of sunlight into a dark room. Hermione Granger is my crack of sunlight in the dark room that is my whole existence.

Who would have thought it right? Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. The Slytherin Prince and the Gryffindor Bookworm. Not that I'm much of a prince nowadays. Since the war ended I have been pretty much all alone. Floating between planes of existence almost.

My views have changed since the days before the war. If they were even my views to begin with. Sixth year. That's when the cracks in my world began to appear. But, I guess that happens in war. Your whole world is turned upside down. You go from being a child to a man to a soldier in as long as it takes to say 'Draco will do it.'

What choice did i have but to say yes. To agree to kill the headmaster of the school that, in truth, was the only real home I ever had. After that year the whole world was plunged into war and nothing was to be the same ever again.

You already know the outcome of that war. It's hard not to know. Unless you're a muggle of course. Not that I have any ill feeling towards muggles in the first place. I'm not sure I ever really did. I grew up hearing about muggles and mudbloods but I never actually met one until I went to school. I remember being amazed at how they were just like normal witches and wizards. Their blood runs as red as mine. This I know.

It was so easy to act like I hated all muggle-borns. Especially one. In truth, I liked the attention she gave me when I taunted her. So I did it more. Over the years my comments got more and more hurtful. I could see it in her eyes how my words cut deep into her as any knife, but by that point, I didn't know how to stop. What could I do? Admit to the whole world that I liked her? The princess of the Golden Trio. No. There was no way. They would have killed me. Or worse, killed her. So I had to keep up the pretense that I hated her.

She knows now that I never hated her. After the war I was a different man. Or maybe the man I should always have been, had I not been a pawn of the Death Eaters and their evil master.

I want to make one thing clear. I am not, and never was a Death Eater. I had the dark mark branded into my flesh, yes. But I was never one of them. I never truly believed in their cause. I served out of necessity. A mere survival instinct. I would have been killed had I not obeyed their orders, but my mind was free. At night alone in my room, I dreamed of a world where I could be with Hermione. I could be free to live in peace.

Of course, even now the war has ended and I am free of the influence of my parents, this could never be. She is a war hero now and her many friends keep her away from the likes of me. At least, they think so.

After the war, I would have sold the Manor if anyone would have bought it from me. My parents both in Azkaban for their crimes during the war, the house was mine. Not that I even wanted it. I wanted to leave everything about my life behind. I closed up the Manor, left it behind. It could rot for all I cared. I freed every single one of the house elves, making them promise to seek help from the charity for the house elves left behind by Death Eaters being packed off to Azkaban. She set up that charity.

I took the few things of value that belonged to me and sold them for a nice little sum. Plenty to live on. Then I bought a little house in the middle of nowhere. Anything to escape the life I had lived. I gave up on magic. Never returned to school. I even died my hair dark and got a job at a muggle shop in a nearby village. Anything to hide the old me from the world.

Draco Malfoy was dead. Dead to anyone who knew him in the past. And dead inside... Until Hermione brought me back.

Of all the villages in the whole of England, no, the world, Hermione Granger had to take her holiday in mine. I was just leaving work for the evening, nobody here expected me to stop and chat or go to the pub with my other workmates once work was done, when I heard the sweet, unmistakable sound of Hermione Granger's voice.

"Draco? Draco Malfoy?"

I whipped my head around and was met with those beautiful big, brown eyes. My eyes grew wide. Then I did the only thing I could think of... I turned and ran. Draco Malfoy ran and hid around a corner from Hermione Granger, terrified that his past was about to catch up with him .

I should really have run a little further than just around the next corner. As I stood, leaning against the cool stone wall in the heat of august, eyes closed tight for fear I would lose the image of her should I open them again, I felt a presence stop before me. I opened my eyes and she was before me.

"Is that any way to treat an old school friend?" she asked in her well practised prefect tone, hands on her hips.

"Friend?" I replied stupidly. Her face fell.

"Oh." I felt the guilt of a thousand hurtful words I had thrown at her across the years hit me with that one syllable from her lips. She sounded so disappointed. Of course she thought I meant it badly. When had I ever given her reason to believe otherwise? But I did so desperately want to be a friend to her.

"Wait. I didn't mean it like that. I'm just surprised you would ever consider me a friend after all that I did to you while we were at school." Her face brightened and my heart soared as she shot me a beaming smile.

"Well there's still time isn't there." I couldn't believe my luck. Forgiveness from this angel. I wasn't worthy to be on the same planet as her, let alone have her speak to me, offering her forgiveness for a lifetime of torment. I nodded in earnest.

"So are you living here now?" she asked brightly.

"Not too far. I work in the shop here. I apparate close to the village then walk in most days."

"Brilliant. I'm here for two weeks on holiday. I was going to do some walking and catch up on some reading but I wouldn't mind some company for some of it. I don't know anyone here just yet."

I nodded, amazed. She was actually willing to spend her holiday with me.

"How about we meet at the pub for something to eat tonight, if you're free that is. I'm staying in one of the room there. It's quite lovely inside."

"I've never been in." I replied.

"Really? Well it shall be a first for both of us then. Meet me at seven?"

There was no way on earth I wasn't going to be there. I walked down the road to the orchard I used as an apparition point with high spirits. I wasn't quite sure what she wanted from me, but i wasn't about to complain.

At quarter to seven I arrived at the pub in my smartest shirt and black trousers. I was nervous as I had ever been as I sat on a barstool to wait and ordered a pint. What if she didn't show up? What if I managed to offend her again?

All my nerves flew out of my head as she descended the stairs, looking a vision in a white summer dress. Her glorious curls were piled atop her head, making her neck look beautifully long and utterly kissable. Many of the locals stopped to look at her as she entered, looking around for me.

And what did I do? I gave a little wave looking like a total idiot. I almost wish she hadn't spotted me to see me waving at her like a loon. But she smiled and made her way over. I stood up from my seat at the bar, feeling completely unworthy, and yet proud to be with this heavenly being.

That night I think I laughed more than I have my whole life. She was funny. The conversation flowed freely as did the wine and I was sorry to say goodnight but I left with the promise that I would see her again the next day.

Every day of that two weeks I saw her, some days meeting at the pub in the evening and, when I had the day off work, spending entire days together, walking the nearby fields and woods, laughing, picnicking. It was the most amazing two weeks of my life. Then, all too soon, it was our final day together. I was down to work that day but I took it off especially so that we could spend the whole day together.

"I want to take you to my house." I told her, timidly. I was certain she would refuse. It was one thing to wander around the village with me, but coming to my house, where she didn't know where she was. And we would be completely alone together.

To my surprise, she actually agreed. We walked lazily to the orchard down the road chatting casually about anything and everything. When we reached a secluded spot I held her close and apparated us away. I could have simply taken her hand to apparate but then I would not have felt her warm, supple body and smelled her fragrant hair. No, this was much better. And I was sure, for just a moment, as I held her close, I felt her squeeze back.

As we landed in front of my house, she gasped.

"Draco. It's beautiful." She later told me she had half been expecting the dark, oppressive manor where she had been held captive during the war. As if I would ever take her back there. Thinking about it, I wonder why she said yes if she expected me to take her to that place, with so many dark memories that should be left in the past. No, my little well-kept cottage was a far more appropriate setting for Hermione Granger. Right from the off she looked like she belonged there. I think she always did.

We had lunch out in the garden in the glorious sunshine and stayed there well into the evening. Just as the sun was setting behind the trees across the field she turned to me and said

"I wish I could stay here forever"

I made a wish that night, that if I could have just one good thing happen to me the rest of my days, let her stay here with me. Let me be worthy of her love. Let her be mine. I leaned slowly toward her, fully aware of what I was about to do and praying to any deities that may be out there that this would go as it hoped. I kissed her. I, Draco Malfoy, kissed Hermione Granger. Her lips were soft and heavenly. I never wanted the moment to end.

After a slow, lingering kiss I pulled away, nervous of her reaction. We parted for barely a second before she was upon me again, kissing me passionately. I pulled her closer to me, wanting her desperately, to possess her, to consume her. I never in my life will forget that night. The night I fist made love to Hermione Granger. Right there on the grass outside my cottage before carrying her to my bedroom and taking her all over again.

We stayed up until the dawn began to break, making love, touching, stroking, talking. Just as the birds began to chirp the dawn chorus, she finally closed her eyes and succumbed to the most peaceful slumber I have ever seen. She looked glorious and serene, in my bed, hair fanned around her, eyes closed. I stayed awake for what felt like hours, just watching her sleep until I, unable to keep my eyes open any longer, fell asleep dreaming only of her.

I woke up to a note. What else had I expected? For Hermione Granger, war heroine to actually want to be with me forever. She had far better prospects than an exiled ex-slave of the dark lord. She deserved so much more than me.

Didn't want to wake you, you looked so peaceful. I'm checking out at 12 if you're up in time to come see me off. If not then I guess I'll see you around. I know where you are now so we can stay in touch

Hermione x

I scrambled for my alarm clock. It was just past two o'clock. Two hours too late. I had missed my chance to go to her and beg her to stay. My two weeks of heaven were over.

The next morning I went back to my normal life alone. How had I ever managed to be content before? Everything just seemed so… empty. Sitting and reading in my armchair in the late evening conjured up visions of Hermione in the library, pouring over some ancient tome in the restricted section, her frazzled hair a halo around her. Walking into the village there wasn't a place where she hadn't made some joke that made me laugh there or looked particularly stunning when she stood right there. Even my own garden which I used to enjoy tending brought back memories of her beautiful body before me for me to touch and taste, kiss and caress.

The few people I did talk to on a regular basis, the others who worked in the shop and the regular customers noted a sour turn in my mood. Each day my temper grew fouler and fouler. I knew they were gossiping about me and the pretty girl who had stayed at the inn for two weeks. And the worst part was they were right. She had left me and I could barely stand it.

Three weeks and my boss was at his wits end. He was a nice old bloke really but he couldn't have his shop boy snapping at customers.

"Why don't you take a couple of days off? Go after her. Tell her how you feel."

I didn't explain that I couldn't go back. That everyone she knew would likely hate me. Not to mention I had no idea where she lived or worked. In the two weeks we spent together I could not remember one instance in which she mentioned anything specific about how she spent her days, no matter how I wracked my brain for some forgotten memory. I did, however, take the days. I had to do something to snap myself out of this slump. The thing was I just couldn't get over her.

Friday morning I showed up to work trying my utmost to seem like the Draco the villagers knew me as, courteous, helpful and smiling. Well I was an improvement over the previous few weeks but all I really wanted was to get home. The day went so slowly, watching the clock constantly will do that, but finally my shift was up, time to close up shop. I went into the back room to hang up my apron when the bell over the front door rang.

"Tell them we're closed" I called to Jenny, the young girl who I worked with on Fridays.

"Draco." I waited for her to continue. When she didn't I walked back out into the shop to see what was wrong when I saw her.

There, by the door of the shop was Hermione. I froze for a fraction of a second before vaulting over the counter and lifting her in my arms kissing her with all that I had. She kissed me back just as passionately and it was almost as if the last few miserable weeks had never happened. She came back for me.

From then on Miss Hermione Granger's weekends were spent in my bed. It was bliss. I spent the whole week looking forward to each weekend when I could hold her again. It was like my entire world revolved around her, cheesy as that sounds. People around the village commented on how happy I seemed. I even began going to the pub on an evening after work, something I had never done in all my years living there. Life was good.

Of course this was the honeymoon period that all relationships have to begin with. Ours was longer than most, a good number of months. But, eventually, as with everything, the cracks began to show.

"You apparate to work in a morning anyway, I just don't get why you have to be in London all week."

"My flat is in London, as are my friends. I have responsibilities there. I can't just up and drop everything to be here all the time. You have every weekend. Why isn't that enough for you?"

"You're a witch, Hermione, it's not as if transportation is particularly difficult. I'm not saying you have to drop everything."

"As if I would just because you tell me to. You don't get to tell me what to do, Draco Malfoy. You don't own me. I am not one of you house elves!"

"You know I freed every last one of my house elves and sent them to your stupid sodding charity" Now I'd done it.

"My charity is a much needed refuge for oppressed house elves who, thanks to their position as slaves in society that you gave them, have nowhere to go once they are freed. They have been raised to believe that they exist only for use by wizards, which is psychological abuse!"

"I gave them! Oh yes, Hermione, I am personally responsible for the role of house elves in society. They bloody liked working for wizards until you waved your magic war hero wand and decreed that all house elves should be free."

Needless to say I didn't get any that weekend… or the following one. And that wasn't the only thing we fought over. We fought about stupid things like me forgetting she didn't like strawberries. It's not as if she's allergic or anything she just doesn't like them. I mean who doesn't like strawberries?

And then we argued about bigger things. Like why didn't she introduce me to her friends? This one was a particularly touchy subject for me. I spent so long feeling ashamed of myself for me to finally accept myself and find that she was embarrassed about me. At least, that's what I read it as in my own mind. Perhaps I was unreasonable in some of my requests. Ok, demands. But I never was an entirely reasonable person.

She left, she came back. It became somewhat of a cycle between us. This life was destroying us both. I could see it, but I couldn't let her go. She was my everything. Equally, she always came back. The time in between varied, sometimes weeks, sometimes months. Early on in the relationship I started getting the Daily Prophet owled to me. She liked to read it in the mornings. Once or twice I saw her in its pages out with some bloke or other during the in-between times. This would always provide me with fresh ammo for the next big blowout.

She had her dates in the prophet. I had my tattoos. I'd gotten a dragon on my right arm over the scar where my dark mark used to be right after leaving the wizarding world. Hermione hated it. She said I shouldn't try to cover up the past. I said why did it matter? Nobody in the village even knew about the wizarding world so who was I hiding it from. I was hiding from myself she said. Well, after the first time I saw her in the prophet with some random guy I went to the nearest town and got a rose up my other arm. She blew her top after she saw it.

It became a game between us. Each time she left she would flaunt herself around wizarding London so much that the gossip section of the Prophet began a weekly Hermione-watch column just to keep track with the many men she was spotted with. In return I would get a new piece of body art, muggle style, the pain of the needle piercing my skin a welcome distraction from my life.

We were stuck, floating in limbo, neither one of us quite sure how to get out. I loved her. And she loved me as she always cried each time she returned to me.

The times between got longer and longer. Until we were more off than on. The cracks got bigger until there was more hole than material holding us together. I felt her drifting away. I should have stopped her.

She's married to Weasley now, just like everyone hoped after the war. He could never hope to deserve her. Every once in a while she still turns up on my door. We don't argue anymore. There's no point.

She is the sunlight streaming through the crack of the curtains into the dark room of my life. I still go to the pub after work then walk back to the orchard and apparate home. On warm nights I lie in the back garden and think of the times we spent together.

The last time I saw her she'd gotten a dragon tattooed on her breast, over her heart. I wonder how she explained that one to her husband.

_A/N: Feedback is very much appreciated_


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